Restaurant Review: The Joy of Cooking

Expect a playful meal at Little Barrel and Brown

By Lynne Margolis

Published: April 1, 2014

When Botticelli’s partners Andrew and Matthew Botticelli and Tim Brown decided to open a second South Congress Avenue restaurant, they held chef auditions. And boy, did they cast a winner—self-taught Austin native Russell Dougherty. He’s having a grand time running the kitchen at Little Barrel and Brown, which took over the Woodland space.

To him, concocting recipes holds the same fun and fascination it did when he was a kid. “I don’t have to grow up,” Dougherty says. “That’s how everyone comes up with great dishes. You play, you play, you play. I get to cook food and have an occasional beer throughout the evening. I’ve got the best job in the world!”

That joy shows in the well-curated menu of elevated comfort-food offerings at Little Barrel and Brown, which derives part of its name from the English translation of Botticelli. The partners, who grew up together in Chicago, seem to share it, too. The restaurant’s slogan is “good food, good folks”; its concept, according to Brown, is a clubby “joint,” meant for hanging out. “We wanted to create a place where you could sit at the bar with some friends or whoever,” he says, “have a couple of snacks, have a glass of wine or switch it up and have yourself a full-blown meal.”

With Chicago-brick walls, dark-stained woods and deep brown leatherette–upholstered booths and banquettes surrounding a long bar, a 1920s-era chandelier casting a warm glow and Pandora-fed blues music filling the air, they’ve achieved a relaxing, low-key vibe. An actual keyhole motif suggests “speakeasy,” though large windows offer opportunities to watch the bustling flow of life along South Congress.

As for the food, Matthew claims that describing it “is like trying to define music. It’s a little bit of this, a little bit of that.” Brown uses “new American” to define a menu divided into little snacks, appetizers, soups, salads, sandwiches and entrees.

Dougherty’s stint at an Alamo Drafthouse–like theater in Brooklyn, N.Y.’s trendy Williamsburg neighborhood is revealed in offerings such as caramel corn with cracked black pepper and fleur de sel (hand-harvested sea salt) and the popular gravlax deviled eggs. These hard-boiled halves contain creamy whipped yolks topped with morsels of dill-garnished salmon, with a salad of parsley, shaved red onions, dill and fried capers dressed with lemon, oil and salt. Why this hadn’t already appeared locally is a mystery; it’s a terrific mix of flavors, with the fried capers adding crunch. (It’s also labor-intensive for the folks doing the peeling.)

Equally appealing—pun intended—is the country pâté, a subtly rich terrine of pork, chicken livers and bacon, served with housemade grain mustard, pickles and grilled baguette slices. The chef takes justifiable pride in his pickling. On the night of our visit, the plate contained succulent ruby-red beets with a hint of cinnamon, pink-hued turnips and fennel. A glass of Pierre Sparr Crémant d’Alsace dry rose bubbly paired nicely; the French 77 awaits another visit.

The P.E.I. mussels also fit a comfort-food definition with a creamy broth made from oyster mushrooms and smoked ham hocks, seasoned with garlic, shallot, chile flakes and lemon juice. And like Cracker Jack boxes, each mussel reveals surprises inside: chunks of mushroom and ham goodness. The colorful kale salad is similarly laden, with plump pomegranate kernels, butternut squash, toasted pumpkin seeds and bean sprouts in a light, red-wine vinaigrette.

Entrees are equally outstanding. The Gulf Coast snapper wows with black-grain forbidden rice, a tangerine emulsion and sides of savoy cabbage and red beets, with radish and basil garnish. The aromatic Chinese rice and pale, sweet-tart tangerine create an intoxicating scent and a flavor that perfectly enhances the skin-on fish. The sides provide elegant visual, textural and taste contrasts.

The Dewberry Farms fried chicken gets its moistness and buttermilk-smooth flavor from soaking in two brines; the second is buttermilk mixed with Frank’s RedHot sauce and grain mustard. Shrouded in a golden crust of crispy heaven, the bird tastes just fine without further dunking in the accompanying cup of Frank’s.

Dougherty does the desserts, too, and his inventive apple pie, made with fried dumplings encasing still-crisp Granny Smith cubes on a cider buttercream bed with fennel ice cream and basil, smacks comfort food into a whole new ballpark. (The cornbread sundae runs a close second.) Whichever you choose, know that eating these creations is just as much fun as it is for the gang to make them.